


No, We're Not Promised Tomorrow

by DoesEulerDreamofComplexSheep



Series: If Music Be the Food of Love [3]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, F/F, Mentions of Cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24879043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoesEulerDreamofComplexSheep/pseuds/DoesEulerDreamofComplexSheep
Summary: Beca and Chloe struggle to find what every day life looks like after a long battle with illness, and Chloe grapples with the anxieties that she has been trying to hide from Beca.Inspired by the songLike I'm Gonna Lose Youby Meghan Trainor
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: If Music Be the Food of Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609105
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	No, We're Not Promised Tomorrow

Chloe gingerly tipped the measuring cup upwards, a stream of water cascading over the lip and into the potted jasmine that lived on the breakfast bar. The soil darkened as it greedily drank in the water and Chloe felt a pang of guilt flash through her. The flowers had been a gift to her wife, Beca, and were her absolute favorite. They had already started to wilt with the lack of attention that they'd received over the past year and a half. Chloe had made sure they were watered occasionally, but with everything that had happened the well being of a plant had hardly been at the top of her list of concerns. Yet as she and Beca struggled to rebuild a sense of normalcy she wished that she had taken better care of the brilliantly perfumed plant, if only for Beca's sake. 

She finished watering them and hung the glassware on the metal drying rack over the sink. When they had bought the home Chloe had insisted they install one, telling Beca that it was well worth the money because it would help them waste less water having to clean dish towels all the time. Beca had ultimately agreed, as Chloe knew she would. Beca loved to highlight her outwardly waspish demeanor, but anyone who knew the woman could tell that the reality was Beca was as prickly as a stuffed animal, especially for Chloe. She leaned against the counter, remembering the day she had brought the rack up, and couldn't help but realize how unimportant it felt now. 

She began rolling down her mental checklist, searching for something to occupy her attention in the echoing silence of their small Palos Verdes home. It was Beca's first week back at work after more than a year. Her label had been nothing but supportive when their star producer had needed to step away from work to battle cancer, and it was Beca's need to return to her work, not their insistence that had brought her back four weeks after her oncologist had announced a full remission. Chloe had encouraged Beca; she knew how desperately the workaholic had missed doing what she loved, but right now the emptiness and quiet surrounding her felt so foreign. 

Chloe had chosen to leave her job as a teacher shortly after Beca stopped being able to work. She adored her kids and she had missed them, but working those early days of Beca's illness had been hell for her - every minute she was sick with worry that Beca might need her, and with the idea that Chloe was missing time with her wife she'd never be given back. She had finished the school year, and given her resignation to the school's administration. Her last day had been full of tears on everyone's part, and she had been assured repeatedly that her job would be there when she was ready, but she didn't have an ounce of regret. 

Now, all these months later, Chloe wasn't quite sure what to do with herself, so here she was, trying to search every inch of their house to keep herself moving. Satisfied with her work in the kitchen she made her way into the laundry, her internal clock telling that the dryer was likely finished with its cycle. She turned out to be right, and a few minutes later she was making her way across the house to their master bedroom, the plastic basket balanced on her hip. 

She set to folding the clothes, her eyes occasionally looking out over the sand and scrub grass that covered the dunes, and the white tipped surf beyond. Suddenly she stopped, her hand frozen, trembling outstretched fingertips hovered above a worn sweatshirt at the top of the basket. _Fuck Cancer_ was emblazoned across the chest in faded silkscreened lettering above a graphic of an obscene gesture. Beca had ordered it for her first round of chemo. She insisted it was just because she was afraid she'd be cold, and she had found the vulgar graphic hilarious, but Chloe always suspected that Beca found catharsis in literally giving the finger to the hand she had been dealt and letting everyone know that Beca Mitchell wouldn't meekly accept her disease. She had worn it through every course of treatment, and Chloe had lost track of how many times she had washed the damn thing. Chloe tried to swallow the lump that had grown in her throat, and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to control the arctic tide of emotions that were creeping up her chest like a rime.

_  
Chloe glanced to her right and saw Beca's knee bouncing rapidly as she rocked her foot on the ground nervously. Her hand found Beca's and tugged it toward her, pulling Beca out of her thoughts and shifting her attention to Chloe. The redhead smiled, giving Beca's hand a gentle squeeze to reassure her. Beca offered a thin smile in reply, but Chloe could still see the gears turning behind her eyes. She opened her lips to speak, but as soon as she drew in her breath the door in the side of the office opened and Beca's oncologist swept in the room in the brisk, methodical movements they had grown used to. She sat down without sparing a word and fixed her eyes on Beca._

_"Beca, Chloe. How are you feeling Beca? Is your energy holding up?"_

_"Uh, yeah. I've been feeling pretty good. I still get tired, but it's getting better. I was able to walk all the way to the beach at the end of the bluffs and back without stopping this week."_

_"Good, that's good. Well, I'll spare you the tension, I have some great news. Beca's latest blood work is keeping with the trend we've seen over the last five weeks." Said Dr. Kellerman, her palm bouncing on the chart in front of her for effect._

_"That means you're currently in total remission."_

_Beca's breath hitched and her hand shot to cover her mouth. Chloe snapped her head towards her wife, eyes wide, and wrapped her arm around Beca. She pulled her close even as the first overjoyed sob shook Beca's waif like frame._

_"Now, obviously we need you to keep coming back for tests, because there's no guarantees and it's possible you could relapse, but - " she paused, a genuine smile spreading on her lips, "I'm really optimistic for you guys."_

_Chloe looked over at Beca, who had shifted to face her, tears streaming down her face. Chloe was reeling, she could barely comprehend the feeling of relief, and she found herself flirting with the first whisps of hope in a very long time._

_"Remission." Beca whispered, struggling to find her voice. She laughed and launched herself into Chloe's embrace._

_"You did it baby." Chloe replied, elated. "You did it."_

Chloe delicately picked up the sweatshirt, its memories like spun sugar in the palm of her hand. The fabric was haggard and pilled; so thing from repeated washings that Beca had needed to wear layers underneath it just to keep warm in her last round of chemo. She felt the shaky foundations of the hope Dr. Kellerman had given them begin to slip, sand cascading down a hillside at the first sign of weight. The load, in this case, was nearly eighteen months of watching Beca waste away, her body withering like her jasmine, barely able to hold on to life, and every thread under Chloe's fingers was a minute of that hell. Her chest felt like she was pinned underneath a boulder, an impossible weight crushing her. She struggled for air; spastic, paniced breaths leaving her suffocating. 

_Beca is okay. She's in remission. She's still here._

Chloe repeated that thought over and over in her head, counting each verse like a prayer on the rosary, willing the mantra to fill her mind up and squeeze out the torrent of horrors that were choking her. She clutched the sweatshirt to her breast as she sank to her knees, digging into the fabric with her fingernails, praying for some kind of a purchase she could hold on to.

_She's alive. She will stay better. You're not going to lose her._

A piercing wail split the silence and Chloe wondered where it was coming from. It filled the room, bouncing off the walls and the glass fronted photographs that catalogued and recorded the last nine years with Beca, and it wasn't until Chloe was gasping for air that she registered that it was her own voice.

* * *

Beca pulled her keys out of her jacket pocket and carefully hung the ring on the key rack above their shoe cubby. She bent down to unzip her boots and set them on top of the built in fixture since they were too tall to fit inside any of the openings and she didn't want to crease the leather. 

"Baby?"

She craned her neck through the entryway, surprised to not hear a response from Chloe. She hung her coat up and walked up the single step to the main floor level, not seeing any sign of Chloe in the kitchen. Chloe's car and bike were in the garage and Beca didn't see her on the patio next to the pool. Now genuinely puzzled Beca strode across the living room towards the door to the bedroom, then something stopped her. She paused next to the couch and cocked her head. She thought she had heard a sound. 

The weather outside was placid, with barely any wind, so not even the sound of the surf made its way inside and the house was completely silent. Beca let out the breath she had subconsciously been holding and was about ready to dismiss what she thought she heard as nerves when she heard it again, and with Beca's attention focused, she recognized the sound immediately; it was someone crying. Beca rushed toward her bedroom, a dozen terrifying scenarios playing through her mind like a terrible compilation video. As she passed the threshold her heart sank. Chloe was crumpled on the floor, sniffling. Her makeup was ruined from tears and she had Beca's chemo hoodie locked between her fingers in a death grip. Beca sank to the floor beside her scooping Chloe into her arms, searching her for some injury.

"Chloe, honey, are you hurt?" Chloe sniffed again, and Beca's heart broke as she saw a look of guilt wash over Chloe's face. The redhead shook her head fiercely.

"What's wrong Chlo? Did something happen?"

"I'm sorry Beca." Chloe choked out, her voice hoarse. Her face crumbled as Beca's name fell off her tongue and she began sobbing, her breaths coming in ragged, panting gasps. Beca stared, dumbstruck.

"Honey, you don't need to be sorry, I'm just worried about you. Is everything okay?"

Beca rubbed her hand rhythmically agains Chloe's back, trying to shush her in a calming whisper. It seemed to work, and at length Chloe nodded, and Beca could see her kneading the sweatshirt in her hands. The brunette swallowed, racking her mind as she tried to decide what to do. She held Chloe close to her chest, counting her heartbeats until Chloe's breathing was under control. Beca remained still, not wanting to upset Chloe. 

"I promised that I'd stay strong for you through all of this." Chloe explained finally, her voice barely a whisper.

"I told myself that you didn't need to worry about me falling apart while you were fighting for your life, and I tried."

Beca smoothed Chloe's auburn hair down with her fingertips and pressed a soft kiss onto the crown of her head.

"I really tried Beca, I'm so sorry."

Beca felt Chloe's body begin to shake in her arms and felt the hot tears running onto her skin.

"Are you kidding me, Chloe?" Beca objected, shaking her head. She cupped Chloe's cheek, brushing away the tears with her thumb.

"Nobody could have ever been stronger than you were for me."

Chloe's eyes darted up, and she stopped at the intensity of the look in Beca's steel blue orbs, adoration and appreciation written in them as clearly as lines on a page.

"Chlo, there were so many times that I wanted to give up. I wanted to close my eyes and just let it be over. It hurt so much and I wanted to just let it happen, to let it end. But every time I thought like that, I looked over and you were by my side."

Tears were falling freely down Beca's cheek, and she sniffed loudly trying to keep her nose from running. Chloe was stunned by Beca's admission - her wife had never told her any of this.

"I'd look at you, and I knew you'd never give up on me. You were my north star," Beca continued, her voice watery and unsteady. "I knew that if I just pointed that way I couldn't get lost, and I kept following your light. The doctors might take all the credit, but you saved my life over and over again. So don't you dare say you weren't strong enough." 

Beca finally lost control of her emotions, undone by the fear that she had somehow led Chloe to the belief that she hadn't been supportive enough, and she allowed herself to collapse into Chloe as they both gave in to the weight of all of the unspoken pain and fear that they had hidden from the other. They wept and said nothing. The clock on the mantle ticked by, a mute witness, each beat unchanged even as both Beca and Chloe's breathing began to steady and calm. Finally, Chloe's rough voice cut the silence.

"Five hundred and thirty seven." 

Beca was holding Chloe in her arms and she peered down at the redhead's face, one eyebrow shifting up in an unasked question. Chloe looked up, and smiled sadly. Beca still looked so fragile; her cheekbones were more pronounced from the rigors of all the rounds of chemo, and Chloe knew that as good as the chocolate brown hair framing Beca's face looked, they weren't actually Beca, but a wig. None of that made Beca any less beautiful to her, but the reminders were still fresh, and Chloe's heart ached for all Beca had endured.

"It was five hundred and thirty seven days from when Dr. Stolfen told you that the lump in your breast wasn't benign until Dr. Kellerman said the word remission."

Beca's eyes widened fractionally as realization crept into her face.

"I was terrified for every single one of them. I thought I would lose you. That I was going to have to live on, waiting to wake up one day only to realize I'd forgotten what your lips taste like, or how your pillow always smells like vanilla and honey. Most nights I couldn't fall asleep because I was afraid of what would happen if I closed my eyes."

Beca held still, processing Chloe's words, confused at the feelings that were swelling in her chest. Regret and pain for all the time Chloe had suffered, and anger that she hadn't trusted Beca enough to share it. Beca knew it was crazy, Chloe had only wanted to protect her, but the anger glowed in her chest, hot as smelted bronze pulled from a furnace. 

"I should have told you." Chloe admitted in a hushed tone, "I was afraid you'd think I was giving up on you."

Beca nodded slowly, then spoke softly. "I know you could never give up on me. On us." 

Chloe could see the recognition in Beca's eyes, the understanding of how much farther they had to go to heal the wounds they had sustained, even as Beca's own body relaxed from its fight. Beca shrugged as she drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"I love you Chlo."

Chloe felt the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She sat up, allowing Beca's arms to fall to her waist. 

"Becs?"

"Yeah baby?"

"Can I ask you a favor? I mean, if you feel up for it?"

Beca's intent gaze silently encouraged Chloe.

"We haven't danced since before your surgery. Do you think you could dance with me?"

"Yeah, " Beca replied with a grin and a nod, "I'd love to. But maybe something slow."

Chloe quickly stood, using the bed to steady her for a moment as her numb muscles began to pump blood again. She ignored the pin pricks that started stabbing her legs, intent on chastising her for sitting on the ground in such an awkward position. She offered her hand to Beca and helped her wife to her feet, still aware of how much strength Beca's fight had robbed her of. She took her phone out and flipped through the menus, the bluetooth speaker's screen blinking to life as her phone sent its signal. A few moments later a slow, melancholy guitar melody drifted from the speaker. 

Beca's smile broadened, instantly recognizing the notes being produced by Chris Gelbuda's guitar. Her right hand settled against Chloe's hip and she took the redhead's hand in her left, lacing their fingers together. Chloe's free hand settled against Beca's chest as her fingertips traced senseless patterns against the producer's collarbone and they began to sway to _Like I'm Gonna Lose You_. Chloe let Beca take the lead, wanting her wife to find a comfortable pace. As Her left foot shadowed Beca's right she slid to the side, both legs coming back together with practiced ease. The steps led on, moving in a neat box beside their bed, only the music and the sound of their bare feet softly brushing over the bedside rug reaching their ears until they reached the chorus and Chloe began to sing.

_So I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you  
And I'm gonna hold you like I'm saying goodbye  
Wherever we're standing  
I won't take you for granted  
'Cause we'll never know when, when we'll run out of time_

Beca allowed her head to rest on Chloe's shoulder, their dancing losing its form as they swayed together in a lazy circle. A curl of ginger hair tickled Beca's ear, but she didn't mind and let out a soft, contented sigh. She couldn't remember the last time she heard Chloe sing and it was even more beautiful than she remembered. She added her deeper alto voice as they finished the chorus together, their voices easily harmonizing.

_So I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you  
I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you._

Beca peeked back up at Chloe. Fresh tears glistened on her cheeks, but her lips held a smile, and Beca let her cheek fall back to her wife's chest. They danced languidly, letting the song finish, and the next, and on even as the sun slipped beneath the rolling waves of the Pacific.


End file.
